OCTOBER 1901. 



THE flock of eider ducks which keep us company through 

 the winter increases daily, and now numbers over thirty. 

 Swimming and diving amongst the breakers from daylight till 

 dark, it is astonishing how they escape being smashed on the 

 bare rocks. The receding wave may leave them almost 

 stranded, and just as the incoming breaker is about to engulf 

 them, they pop through its base and come up on the other side 

 in a smother of foam. They are sometimes quite close to the 

 tower, and then we have an interesting view of their proceed- 

 ings. The diving of one is generally the signal for the 

 remainder to follow, and the whole flock may be clearly seen, 

 a couple of fathoms down, scurrying over the rocks in eager 

 quest of the different dainties on their menu, consisting 

 chiefly of small crabs. The capture of one of these crabs by 

 no means ensures that it will ultimately contribute to the 

 duck's sustenance this is not intended as a reflection on their 

 digestive power, which appears equal to anything short of 

 nails, considering the quantity of hard-shelled crabs they assimi- 

 late during a day's fishing for, on gaining the surface with 

 his prize, he may be immediately assailed by the marauding 

 gulls and compelled to dive with his prey. This may be 

 repeated several times, until he reluctantly surrenders the 

 succulent tit-bit, or is compelled to swallow it under water 

 a proceeding they are evidently averse to, otherwise the gulls 

 would fare but poorly in their nefarious calling. The un- 

 certainty of the crab's final lodgment is again demonstrated 

 in the case of the successful "blackmailer." Hastily swallow- 

 ing his booty to avoid being plundered in turn by his fellows, 

 he is again on watch for the reappearance of his unwilling 

 providers. But retribution occasionally overtakes the despoiler 

 as it does his human prototype, with the difference that 



